


Spring

by LightsAnon



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, M/M, Slow Burn, Yusuke POV, almost, madarame isn't an asshole, minor allusions to anxiety attacks, non-canon side characters, tags'll update as i go, yknow the usual, yusuke has no inspiration and akira is super gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightsAnon/pseuds/LightsAnon
Summary: Yusuke sat upright in the corner of the clubroom, the complaints of his stiff back falling on deaf ears as he stared at the canvas before him. His mind running wild, he reached forwards with his brush to try and grasp at the winding threads of inspiration, but they all fell through the bristles, leaving only a lonely, dark mark on the canvas.





	1. Chapter 1

Yusuke sat upright in the corner of the clubroom, the complaints of his stiff back falling on deaf ears as he stared at the canvas before him. His mind running wild, he reached forwards with his brush to try and grasp at the winding threads of inspiration, but they all fell through the bristles, leaving only a lonely, dark mark on the canvas. He sighed and packed up his things.

A few familiar faces perked their heads up as Yusuke entered to dorm common room. He mumbled a few words of greeting on his way up to his room.

He didn’t have a particularly strong relationship with any of his dorm mates, or even anyone in his school. He didn’t mind. Where most people found comfort in the presence of others, Yusuke merely concentrated on his art whenever he was lonely, whenever he needed help sorting things out. People were unpredictable, ebbing and flowing under the forces of whims and needs, and while Yusuke’s inspiration would come and go as it pleased, there was always some portion of it there to keep his silent company.

Yusuke took a step into his room and let his door click closed behind him. The last strands of sunset crept through his blinds, setting his bedroom wall alight with a blaze of orange lights. It was the first time that week that it wasn’t raining, and though there were clouds dotting the sky, they glowed with sunlight rather than blocking it. Yusuke pulled his chair from his desk to his private easel and began to paint.

When the spark of inspiration began to burn down and when his hand began to slow, Yusuke looked up from his work. The cover of night had been thrown over everything in sight, and the dancing lights that captured his interest may as well have been a dream.  
He looked over to the clock on his desk, the glowing digits the only source of light now in his room. 1:32am. He stumbled out of his school uniform and into bed.

At 6am the next day, the clock played a calm tune, a choir of harps playing together in harmony. The day he set that as his alarm, Yusuke thought it was beautiful. Everyday since, it was the bane of his existence. Today in particular he found himself hating it. On 4 ½ hours of sleep, spite was the only thing fuelling his body. He dragged himself out of bed, bathed and prepared himself for school as wild winds blew outside the dorm.

The day went by as every day had for the past week and a half, at least. Clouds hung low in the sky, rain collided against the classroom windows, and Yusuke sat inside, time passing slowly around him. The lessons were as drab as the weather was, and he found himself wishing that his pen would flow as easily as the rain fell.  
By the time the final school bell rang, his notebook’s margin was filled with doodles, while his class notes were just dotpoints.

That afternoon, he didn’t bother heading to the art clubroom. All that waited for him there was hard chairs and blank canvases. No, today he went straight back to his dorm to rejoin the painting from the night before. The rain could continue to pour. As long as he had the sunset captured in his room, it didn’t matter. All he needed to do was perfect it.  
He rushed all the way back to his dorm. For the first time in the months he’d lived there, Yusuke was the firsts one home. The common room was a bit haunting with no-one in it, like it had lost a part of it’s soul. It was so quiet that Yusuke’s footsteps seemed to echo through the hall on his way up to his room.

He didn’t even make it to his chair, still in front of his easel from last night, before he stopped in his tracks. As his eyes fell over the painting, his heart sank. Was this truly the piece he’d sacrificed a good night’s sleep for? Was the veil of night so thick that it blinded him? He forced himself to take a seat in front of the canvas. It was all wrong. The blending of colours was poor, the shading too strong, and in some places the background was even sticking out from behind the image. Given time, he could fix this, but... He double-checked that the paint was dry and placed the canvas face-down on his desk.

Yusuke sighed. What a fool he had been, truly. The moment his inspiration came into his grasp, it slipped through his fingers again, like a persistant mosquito.

He went to bed early that night. The days after blurred together like a movie on loop for far too long, every day telling the same dull, long-winded story until Yusuke was fed up with the cycle, but he wasn’t quite ready to ask Madarame-sensei for help.  
For a week, he stumbled through each day until he found himself in a particularly boring history lesson. The teacher was on a tangent, talking about something unrelated to the class when an idea struck him. What if his lack of inspiration was because he was doing the same thing each day, and not the other way around? Would it get better if he stepped outside of his comfort zone? The rest of the lesson was spent brainstorming ideas. There wasn’t a lot of places he could go on his own. An arcade was certainly out of his usual range of activities, but he doubted he could keep himself amused there for long. With the help of Sensei and the dorm staff, Yusuke was getting by, but he hardly had enough money to just pick up a new hobby, either. So, where could he go? Though he was unsure, he was impatient to take action. And so it was that he found himself wandering around the Shibuya underground mall that afternoon.

Aside from the fact that floor beneath him was slicked with wet footprints, it was easy for Yusuke to forget that it was raining above ground, with the buildings thick roof and the murmur of countless people blocking out the sound of the rainfall. He meandered through the mall, every hint of colour catching his eye as he searched for inspiration. The mall was lined with shops of all kind, videos, clothes, food, accessories, each shop with its own aesthetic and satisfying displays. The artist’s journey turned more into an adventure than a search for lost inspiration. He turned another corner, and yet another display caught his eye.

This time, the object of his attention was a flower, that had bloomed in a cluster, the colour and shape of which combining to make an explosion of watercolour blue. A woman approached him with a sheepish smile and gestured to the flowers in front of him.

“These are hygrangeas. Beautiful, aren’t they? Are you interested in them?"

Yusuke looked back to the hydrangeas, remembering the reason for his trip. They truly were beautiful, but would they help him? When he looked at them, he felt something well up inside of him... maybe it was worth a try. He turned to the woman again and, before he pulled out his wallet, asked her;

“Do you know the meaning behind these flowers, ma’am?” The woman stuttered, mouth flapping as she tried to gather her words.

“Ah, well-“

“’Thank you for understanding’” Came a voice from deeper within the shop. A man’s voice, low but gentle. Sweet. The woman visibly relaxed at the sound of his voice. “But, they can also mean vanity or disinterest. If it’s a gift, we can make a bouquet to clear up the meaning?”

Yusuke searched for the source of the voice as he listened. Toward the back of the store he saw him, a boy who appeared to be a teenager, with messy hair and glasses that covered his eyes. He was building a brightly coloured bouquet already, yellows, oranges and whites mixed together seemlessly. It reminded the artist of the sun. He didn’t doubt the other boy’s capabilities in the least. He had made up his mind.

“No, thank you.” Yusuke replied. “Just these will do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this get straight and then they get gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o.k. so APPARENTLY THE FLOWERSHOP IS BIGGER IN THIS AU BC  
> I FORGOT HOW SMALL IT WAS INGAME

Outside of the train, dark clouds were waging war against the sky, with war cries of thunder coming from all directions; the rain, casualties, falling heavily onto the hard train roof. In the middle of it all was Yusuke. He’d won a few stares from other train-goers, a lonely-looking teenager in his school uniform, sitting on a train with a single vased flower in his lap. 

The boy at the shop had wrapped it up neatly in purple plastic wrap. The older woman had been attending an elderly couple when Yusuke was ready to pay, so it was the other who attended to him.. The two of them had a short conversation about nothing in particular, each question separated with short, comfortable silences.

“So you go to Kosei?” The boy had asked, “I go to Shujin, though I just transferred in recently.” The artist had nodded along, responding with a yes or no when necessary, but little else.. The topics were uniform, nothing too personal, but he never felt like they were just going through the motions. The messy-haired boy seemed very charismatic. 

As he was being rung up, Yusuke got a better look at him, too. His facial features were still obscured, but he had a lithe body, and was a little shorter than him.

Moments later, the transaction was completed, and it was time for Yusuke to leave. He did so, feeling a slight pang of regret as he went, but that was soon forgotten.

The downpour had settled into a drizzle when it was time for the artist to get off the train.  He slowly made his way slowly back to his dorm, letting his hydrangea get a bit of fresh water. Before long, it was sitting against his windowsill, soaking in what little sunlight there was before the sun disappeared for the night.

That evening, Yusuke made sure to flick his light on before he got absorbed into his work. He started off with sketches of his new purchase, something he had long been used to. Still lifes were among the first things he’d learned to draw as a beginner artist. He drew the plant from a few different angles, though the differences between them were slight, when an idea struck him.

Maybe, if he’d been struggling with inspiration, then going back to basics was exactly what he needed. With that idea in his mind, he packed up his things and went to bed. He didn’t want to get carried away and be up all night again. 

The next day went by without much incident, though Yusuke had the distinct feeling that he was being watched on more than one occasion—eyes upon him in what should have been an empty hall, whispering of his name in the ambiance of a classroom—but In the end, nothing came out of it, and he went back up to his dorm room without interruption. He felt a bit guilty about staying away from the clubroom for so long, but for now his subject remained in his room, and he didn’t dare move it for fear of something happening to it.

His uneasy feeling didn’t leave him the next day.It became more intense, actually, and even when he was walking through otherwise empty hallways, he was sure he could hear a high-pitched laughing in addition to feeling eyes on him. He was almost convinced that a  curse had been cast upon him, until just before lunch break ended one day. 

He was back in class, focusing on finishing his store-bought meal, when he felt eyes upon him so strongly that he couldn't distract himself. He looked up, and saw a pair of eyes staring right into his. It was the girl in the seat in front of him. 

They stared at each other for a few moments before the girl flashed him a toothy grin. She had a rather plain-looking face, with straight black hair that fell neatly onto her shoulders and a small, thin frame. Her stare went from intense to gentle in a matter of moments, leaving Yusuke with no clue what she could have wanted with him. He didn’t have to ask.

“Hello, Kitagawa-kun!” The girl’s smile was so wide that it threatened to take up all of her face.

“Hello,” He replied, his words sounding more like a question than anything else. If this put the girl off, it didn’t show.

“How’s club going?” 

“Well.” Yusuke was taken aback by his own word, by how automatic his response was. So much so that he failed to catch the girl’s next words, giving a reluctant nod instead. Art club didn’t require much of him, just mandatory attendance twice a week, the occasional competition, and to hand up some work to the club leader at the end of every month. It wasn’t anything he struggled with.

Still, the more he thought about it, the harder it was to convince himself that it was truly going well. The next grading was two-and-a-half weeks away. That allowed plenty of time for inspiration to strike, but what if it didn’t? He was a prodigy, a wunderkind who had few hobbies aside from his work, and no-one he could truly call a school friend. Would handing over an uninspired still life really be enough? He had no excuse. Was his well of talent starting to dry up? 

He felt his chest go tight just thinking about it, felt a pang in his lower stomach, felt-

The lunch bell snatched him away from his thoughts, leaving him to wipe away the budding sweat on his brow as the girl in front of him turned to the front of the classroom.

In the days after that, the strange occurrences began to lessen, but the girl at the desk in front of Yusuke began talking to him more and more.

Each morning, she’d greet him with a friend hanging off each shoulder. One had a brown bob and was all-smiles like her friend, the other had fluffy, blonde-dyed hair and wore a smirk on her harsh features. Yusuke knew the last of them as Kana Kudo, sister of an art club senior who’d graduated. She’d spent some afternoons in his dorm lobby, too. He didn’t know the names of the other two girls.

He expected the girl in front of him to be sad when he asked her for her name, but instead her face lit up with a playful expression. 

“You don’t know? I kinda don’t want to tell you, though… Why don’t you work it out for yourself?” 

A confused Yusuke agreed, and left it at that. 

He went home that night to find his flowers brown and shrivelled, unhealthy petals littering his desk. Every time he looked up at them for reference, he felt a pang of sadness in his chest.

When he woke up the morning after that, he found the hydrangea dead. He carefully placed it in the trash on his way to school. It felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.

Lunchtime rolled around, and the girl in front of him turned around to face him once more. This time, her usual smile gave way to concern as soon as she did.

“What's wrong, Kitagawa-kun?”

He frowned. Did he really look so upset that this person, as cheery as a person could be, would worry about him? He didn’t feel good about that.

After brief deliberation, he told her about the flower, while avoiding the subject of his failing inspiration. Not once did she laugh, no matter how silly Yusuke felt about mourning for a plant of all things. She sat there, quieter than she had ever been, and just listened. When the bell rung and she turned around again, Yusuke thanked her. He was glad to have someone he could talk to. A true friend.

Maybe it was too early to call her that. He still didn't know her name. Even her two friends gave him knowing glanced and huffs of laughter when he asked them. But, she was the closest school friend he had, and he didn’t want to make light of that.

It was because of their talk that, as he rounded the corner of the Shibuya underground mall, he found himself excited, rather than plagued with thoughts of his first plant.

It was raining yet again, to the point where he could still hear it behind the sounds of the mall. The rain never stopped these days, but Yusuke had still forgotten to bring an umbrella to school. The privilege of living in an on-campus dorm, he supposed. It was sheer luck that he'd managed to avoid the rain on his way to the train. Not everyone shared that luck. He'd seen many people with wet clothes and dripping umbrellas has he walked by.

At last, he approached the flower shop,  eyes darting over to the display his hydrangea was. Nothing in particular caught his eye this time, just arrangements of dull, muted colours.

"Excuse me," a woman with a sheepish smile approached him. The same one from before. She didn't to appear recognise him. "Are you looking for anything in..." Her gaze trailed away to something behind Yusuke. "Kurusu-kun, you're late!"

Yusuke barely had enough time to turn around when a someone in Shujin Adademy uniform ran up to them. The one who served him last time..

"Sorry, Hanasaki-san," The boy gave a curt bow in apology, "I tried to wait out the rain, but..." Water dripped from his hair as he removed his foggy glasses from his face. He looked up at the artist, his face glowing with the light of recognition. "You're back." 

Yusuke caught that light in his eyes and couldn’t  look away. The boy's- Kurusu-kun's- eyes were clearer than he thought black eyes could be. They were honest, and gentle, like the conversation the two had the last time the artist came in. His mess of black hair was sticking to his face, framing it the way his wet clothes did to his body, emphasising everything underneath. He was thin, thin but muscular. He couldn’t think of any word to describe him other than stunning, the true definition of beauty. Okay, maybe he could think of a lot of words to describe him, but no one word did the boy justice. The artist felt something welling up inside of him—something he hadn't felt in a while—

— _Inspiration._

Kurusu looked away and sneezed.

"Ah!" Hanasaki flailed her arms in panic, grabbed Kurusu and pushed him towards the back of the shop. "You're going to catch a cold! Take your jacket off, at least! Hurry!" 

It took a few minutes of humming and harring as Hanasaki showed him different flowers to turn his nose up at, only half of which being real disapproval, the rest stalling for time until Kurusu came back. He  _had_ to see him again. Had to talk to him, had to ask him to model for him, and if he refused, had to burn his image into his retinas so that he'd never forget it.

Much to Yusuke's relief, a frantic customer came into the shop and pulled Hanasaki's attention away from him, and he was left to wait it out excuse-free. It wasn't long until the messy-haired boy came into view again. The two locked eyes, and the shop attendant made his way over.

“Need anything?” Kurusu asked. Yusuke was the first to break eye contact, looking down at an arrangement that had caught his eye instead. Lines of oddly-shaped flowers grew down stems that bent under the weight. In between those blooms were smaller, leafier stems, adorned with tiny, powder-blue flowers. All these sat in a small, clear vase that had a ribbon, thin and white, tied around it.

 

“Just these, then?”

 The artist nodded, and the two went to the counter.

Kurusu snuck glances at the artist  while typing into the computer on the desk. For good reason. Yusuke was watching him, too. Every time the messy-haired boy  looked over, he’d pause, eyes falling just short of meeting the other’s gaze. A smile would pull on the corners of his lips before he looked away again. He looked like he wanted to say something, Yusuke thought, so he waited while the money was exchanged, he waited as he pick up the vase, waited until Kurusu said goodbye and began to walk away without saying anything else.

A sense of pure urgency welled up inside the artist, too strong to ignore.  _Say something,_  the voice in his head demanded,  _before he leaves._ He took a step closer to Kurusu, moving around the counter without breaking eye contact. 

“Can I see you again?” Yusuke had asked before he had time to even process what he would say. Kurusu stared at him, black eyes wide with surprise, unblinking. He was silent. The seconds ticked by and Yusuke could feel every part of the urgency inside him turn into regret, fear—he wanted to run away but his feet stayed firm on the ground. 

An eternity could have passed before Kurusu turned around and grabbed an unused receipt stub and a pen from the counter. He took a moment to write something on it, folded it up, and handed it to Yusuke. He was looking away when he said,

“I finish at 8. Text me after that.” 

The artist unfolded the note with his one free hand. Sure enough, he was met with a string of numbers, and a name.  _Kurusu Akira_ _._  A beautiful name. A befitting name.

“Thank-“ When Yusuke looked up, Akira was already walking away. He could’ve sworn he saw redness creeping down the boy’s neck, and he truly hoped he wasn’t getting sick.

The train ride home was a blur, and his new flowers, an afterthought. He placed them down on his desk, on the dustless mark that his hydrangeas had rested, grabbed his sketch book and relaxed on his bed. He practiced figure drawing until 8pm sharp, whipped out his phone and opened the messenger app. His fingers darted across his digital keyboard faster than they ever had before.

_To: Kurusu-kun_

_When are_ _you free next?_

_-Kitagawa Yusuke (_ _The boy_ _from the flower shop)_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh its done. wasnt too happy with this when i first wrote it but i think i fixed it up o.k.  
> anyway akira POV next chapter so im excited for that


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for how late this is! life kinda blew up a bit and I had to move house!
> 
> ugh. i hope you enjoy this though, next update should be next thursday, if all goes to plan ..

“So, what's going on?”

Akira dropped the mug in his hand and watched, horrified as it fell—into the sink. Phew. The boss would have his head if he broke anything.  
He looked up to the source of the voice and saw Ann, head chin resting in her palm, her vibrant blue eyes dull with boredom.

“Nothing,” Akira replied. He patted down his messy hair and grabbed the mug from the sink’s murky depths. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Ann scoffed. He gave her a indignant glare through his bangs.

“Seriously? You’ve been cleaning that mug for about 10 minutes, and you’ve been lost in your thoughts the whole time. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Akira hadn’t known Ann for very long. About half a year by now. In that time, he’d learned that she was both caring and stubborn enough to never let something like this go. Also, she could probably beat him up without breaking a sweat, or feeling bad about it. He let out a sigh, and gave in.

“I have a date this Sunday.”

He watch as her expression shifted to surprise and curiosity, before switching to horrified.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Ann sputtered. Akira moved to clean the counter of the spit she’d sprayed, but she caught his arm before he could. “It’s Ryuji.” She stared into his eyes and dared him to correct her. He was happy to oblige.

“I promise you, it’s not Ryuji.” She let out a sigh of relief so fast she almost choked on it.

"You've been flirting with him lately, though."

"Just because he doesn't know how to react.” Akira tried to imagine himself with Ryuji. He didn’t even know where to begin. “We’re just friends. Besides, that guy’s so far in the closet that he’d find Narnia before he found the exit.”

“True.”

Akira finished the dishes and made the two of them some coffee. When it was done, he sat down next to Ann. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Ann slammed down her drink, droplets of white coffee raining over the counter.

“So, who is it?”

"Who is--oh.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “Someone I met at work a few times. Goes to Kosei.”Ann stared at him. He waited for her to say something, but it never came. “What? He’s not like, creepy or anything. He’s quiet. Handsome.” Ann’s expression didn’t waver.

“Akira, how many times is a few?”  
“Y’know, two.”

Ann’s jaw hung open. “You gave your number to a _stranger_? He could be a stalker! He could kill animals with his bare hands!” The two heard Morgana, who had been soundly sleeping, jump out from a table booth and head upstairs. “I thought you were smarter than that. Mishima-kun was asking for your phone number for a _month_ before you gave it to him!”

“Mishima tried to kiss me in the bathroom. Come with me, if you’re so worried.”

Ann stared.

“Never mind. Please don’t.”

She took a slow sip of her drink and rubbed stray coffee droplets into the table with the sleeve of her jacket. Akira appreciated the effort but her attempts to make cleaning up easier just spread the mess further.

“What’s he like?” She asked. Akira didn’t need to look at her as she changed the subject. She’d made her mind up about something, and he was going to have to deal with the consequences.

“Tall. Handsome. Quiet. He didn’t talk much, but didn’t really shy away from conversation either? And he looked me in the eye whenever I was speaking, too. Seemed interested.”

“Akira. You asked a stranger on a date because he maintained eye-contact?”

“No! _He_ asked _me_.”

“Akira!”

“What? He was desperate.”

“Mishima was desperate too!”

“Whatever. He was passive the whole time, and when he asked me out, he raised his voice. I got curious, so I agreed. Besides, he’s good looking.” Ann groaned, her voice muffled as she buried her head into her hands.

“I’m just saying,” She turned her head enough to speak clearly, “He could be dangerous!”

"I can handle myself.” Akira gulped down the rest of his drink and went back to cleaning the dishes. He could feel Ann’s eyes on him as he went around the counter, but he was done with the conversation. He could be just as stubborn as her, he thought. “Why don’t we talk about _your_ love life, hmm?”

Ann mumbled some something as a bitter frown overtook her face. It was almost enough to distract from the growing redness on her cheeks. Somehow, self-proclaimed _distinguished_ lesbian had turned into a _disaster_ one when she realised her feelings for not one but two of her schoolmates—beloved childhood friend Suzui Shiho, and the stern, determined student council president, Niijima Makoto.

The two sat down at a booth together to finish up some homework—which had been the main reason Akira had invited his classmate over in the first place. The two worked until the sky was completely dark. Akira walked Ann to the station, fed Morgana, and then got into bed.

Still not anywhere near tired, Akira pulled out his phone and opened the messenger app. Morgana finished eating and hopped up onto the bed to groom himself. He—Akira’s tuxedo street cat—would whine and whine if there wasn’t anyone to curl up against after he’d finished a meal. Years of being starved and alone had made him very clingy for an independent stray.

Akira’s scrolled past the day’s conversations—most of which were Ryuji complaining about an upcoming exam—before tapping on Yusuke’s name. He re-read the words they exchanged, searching for something that might justify Ann’s worries. The Kosei student was eager in the messages, not quite desperate as he had been the last time they met, but definitely not casual. Not to mention the fact that he’d sent the initial message the very second Akira’s shift had finished, before Akira had even changed out of his uniform.

He reached the end of the conversation and closed his phone. He wasn’t a careless kind of guy, especially when it came to dating, but… He just couldn’t see this guy as suspicious. And yeah, maybe he was being stupid, and maybe he’d regret it, but for the time being, he was buzzing with excitement.

Akira grabbed his phone again. It opened right up to Yusuke’s chat messages. The two had agreed to meet at a café in Shibuya, and the other had mentioned wanting to go to a park afterwards, if the weather was decent. The last words shared had been Yusuke’s, the text highlighted in the messenger; _I simply cannot wait_. Akira stared at those words, imagined the boy as he was now; nervous, excited. His chest filled with warmth.

He tapped on the message bar, typed _Goodnight, Kitagawa_ , sent the message and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he could see his phone light dim, and then light up again as the bing of a received messaged filled the room. Morgana kneading the bed beside him, Akira drifted off while his heart beat fast against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil short .. but, date next chapter! probably gonna get 1 more akira chapter in before switchin back to yusuke
> 
> also if you ship akira and ryuji, youre valid af.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a slut for slow burn ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> crit welcome  
> haven't posted here before  
> might be smut at the end, but not for a while. i'll make it contained chapters so ppl who aren't comfortable can skip it easily


End file.
